Who Even Forks Yards Anyways?

Time to confess, y’all: I do. I fork yards. 

Once upon a time, my family woke up to our front yard stabbed with hundreds (I may be exaggerating here) of little, plastic forks. As my brother and I pulled them out that day, I continuously broke into laughter at the image of someone sneakily shoving forks into the dirt repeatedly, and there vowed to become a forker ever since. 

 Finally, on the eve of my 19^th birthday, the stars aligned. 

 At midnight one of my best friends turned to me and said, “I’m feeling strangely awake!” She is one of those people who went to sleep at 11:00 during her freshman year at college. Over Christmas break, I was forced to throw ice cubes at her to prod her into staying up past 1. Her exclamation got me so excited that I proposed pranking someone, and hurriedly roused my other best friend who had passed out on a couch during a movie. As we discussed the possibilities, my excitement at finally reaching my goal became manic, and soon we were out the door with two boxes of assorted cutlery, a plate of peeps ripped off of my birthday cake, a flash light, and a bug spray fan clipped onto the waist of my oh so attractive matching purple cloud jammies. 

 Roomies—picture St. Patrick’s day times 3. 

The whole drive down to our unsuspecting victim (a lovely woman who is a “kindred spirit" as Anne of Green Gables would say) my 11:00 bedtime best friend was panicking, driving far below the speed limit, while me and my now fully alert and hyper amiga were in hysterics.

On reaching the destination, the whole situation got real.

The idea that someone would catch us clutching eating utensils and frosting covered peeps in our pajamas terrified us. We plotted, and decided that I would fork and my hyper amiga would throw the peeps while my 11:00 bedtime friend acted as look out and our escape ride.

Forking proved to be more difficult than I imagined. In the pitch black, I had grabbed two handfuls of mixed cutlery, and not many were forks. There is a reason it’s called forking: the fork stabs easier into the ground. And frankly spooning and knifing a yard just sound wrong and violent

After a brief scare, we decided to cut our prank short due to further paranoia and lack of supplies. We drove away a little less exhilarated, definitely more embarrassed, and very self-conscious about the poor pranking job done. 

 The next day I logged into Facebook, blushed, then preceded to laugh for hours. The son of the woman we pranked (also a friend) had posted an outraged and rather colorful response to our late night activities, complete with a picture (not shown).

           Edited for language it read: 

 Some dumb-bleep attempted to fork my yard. Lemme tell you why you did the bleepist forking job I've ever seen in my life.
1. There were maybe 30 plastic utensils in my yard, you're supposed to do the whole yard bleepnut.
2. You didnt just use forks, you used spoons and knives too. You didn't even bother sticking them in the ground either.
3. There were about 7 peeps in my yard. What was the purpose of that?!
4. You tried to fork a yard. What is this, 1999?

It took less than 3 minutes to clean this up, I hope you feel like a jack-bleep because you are.

 Thirty-Six people liked his post, and many people commented—all people I am acquainted with. I see the author of the post at least once a week at work, and have plans to get together with his mother later this summer. I plan on never telling them.

 Hopefully they don’t read this blog.

                                              The Moral(s) of the Story

 -For a prank to be sufficiently humorous—there is no middle ground. Either it has to be fantastic or embarrassingly horrible. 

 -Wear appropriate sneaky gear. Not your bright purple cloud pjs and little brother’s church shoes. 

 -Fulfilling one’s vows, while potentially mortifying, is incredibly self-gratifying.

 -Everyone needs best friends like mine: One to flow right alongside your crazy, and another to hang onto sanity and stop you from making too much of a fool of yourself. 

 -ANNALEE

Public (Fashion) Offender

One of the first (and best) purchases I've made since I moved out of Tingey Hall was a muumuu.  For those summer days when it's hot and you've just gotten home from work, and you have no desire whatsoever to wear work clothes, a muumuu is like heaven.  It's soft, it's airy, and it's got pockets. Not to mention, they come in some of the ugliest prints ever imagined.  Really what more could you ask for?

I wear my muumuu almost every day, but I do have limits:

1.  Never answer the door or stand too close to windows while wearing your muumuu

2.  Never EVER go out in public while wearing your muumuu

One particularly rough day, I was wearing my muumuu and was in desperate need of a Glacier, an ice cream cone-shaved ice hybrid, served at one of my hometown's most infamous restaurants, Taco Amigo.  I swear almost all of my high school has worked there at one point, and it is always crowded.  Lucky for me and my muumuu, the good old Taco Amigo has a drive-thru.  I grabbed a few dollars, hopped in my car, and headed out to get a Glacier.  I figured since I was going to be sitting down in my car with my seatbelt firmly across my body, I wasn't breaking any of the muumuu rules.  

So I went to the drive-thru, waited my turn in line (since it's always crowded), ordered a tiger's blood Glacier, and headed to the window to pay.  The total was $2 and some change, so I handed the girl working the window (who I knew from high school) my $2.  As I go to hand her my remaining balance, the change slips through her fingers onto the ground right outside my car and her window.  Oh shoot. I'm thinking.  I've got to grab this change, but there is a long line of people I probably know behind me, a cute girl from high school working the window (along with a few other people I recognized from school), and I'm wearing my muumuu.  I opened my car door and tried to reach for the change, but it was just barely out of reach.  In my mind I assumed I had no choice but to break rule number two:  I had to get completely out of my car, almost shut my door, grab the change, hand it to the girl safely in the window, and hop back in the car as fast as physically possible to reduce the amount of people that would see me in this hideous but-oh-so-light-and-airy sack on my body.  I proceeded to unbuckle my seatbelt and follow the remaining steps.  After a little trouble picking the change up from the ground, I leaped back into my car, grabbed my Glacier, and sped away.  The time between unbuckling the belt and rebuckling felt like an eternity: I am sure half the general public saw my lovely muumuu.  

Looking back on the situation, I realize I could have just grabbed another quarter and handed that to the girl, but hey, when your natural tendency is to be in an awkward situation, your brain's innate response is to shut off the common sense switch.  

Overall though, I recommend everyone buy a muumuu. Just don't break the rules.

Happy Summer, y'all.

--Sadie

I Now Pronounce you Mr. and Mrs. Sassa-Frass

As the year came to a close, goodbyes were being said to our friends and our favorite people.  As I was walking home from work on Wednesday, I ran into the twins (a.k.a. Alex- Julie's boy, and Blake) packing up their truck to head out.  The twins were some of our very first friends here, so I wanted to say my last goodbyes for two years.  Blake gives me a hug, we tell each other good luck on our missions, etc. (this part was a little uncomfortable due to our interesting past...) Alex gave me a big hug and in an almost-whispering tone says to me "We've become really good friends this semester."  This was true, but super cheesy, so I replied with a sassy "yep."  He then proceeds to call me "Mrs. Sassa-frass!", all before letting me out of a hug.  My first instinct was to call him a name back, but after a long week of finals, all I could think of was Mr. Sassa-frass... Since Julie had just broken his heart (BTW, welcome to the club, Julie!) , and I had no interest in him, and it would have been extremely uncomfortable since we were standing next to Blake, whose heart I had broken, I had absolutely no interest in calling him the Mr. to my Mrs. The name almost blurted out of my mouth though, and in order to stop myself, my face naturally scrunched up and I did this weird breath in.  We stood there for a few seconds while I thought of a proper comeback, but all I could think of was "Eh, it's all relative..." Then all three of us did a really depressing giggle.
In all honesty, I'm pretty proud of myself for restraining my mouth.  This story would have been a lot different had I not... Hahaha.
Also, goodbyes are the worst.

--Sadie

Ebony and Ivory

So at work I just started watching these live zoo web cams, and my favorite are the Panda bears, who I have affectionatley named Ebony and Ivory. (They are living in perfect harmony by the way). As I was watching these adorable bears I started to feel very relaxed, and I thought about how nice it would be to fall asleep watching them on my computer. And then I almost laughed out loud because this made me think of my lovely roommate Lizzy, who would fall asleep with her boy Toby on skype almost every night of this last semester. Lizzy has Toby, and I have a panda bear....=)

Also, as I was watching these same Panda bears, I was listening to Michael Buble, and the song he sings called 'Feeling Good' came on, and suddenly the Panda was strutting around in time with the song. It was the weirdest thing...Ebony looked like he was singing and dancing!! He was Michael..the panda version of him. And then his song called 'Home' came on and the Panda sat on the ground and stared out through the fence for the longest
time...I almost cried. He just wants to be free! =(
#pandaproblems













-Cass

The Hunger Games

So finals week kind of pushes me over the edge. I get super stressed, like most people probably do, and this makes me a little crazy. So today I was studying in a building on campus and I had forgotten my lunch, so I was super hungry. The table I was sitting at had some vending machines next to it and as I'm sitting there, here comes this vending employee girl wheeling in three huge boxes to restock the machines. As she is unlocking the vending machine I simultaneously observe that I am hungry, that I have no money, and that this girl is as thin as a twig. I suddenly found myself looking back and forth between her and her boxes of vending machine goods and thinking, "Yeah, yeah, I could do it, I could take her."

What is wrong with me???! (don't answer that). Finals need to end and soon!

-Cass

Do the creep

I have a boy.
A cute hot wonderful sweetheart boy.
He's tall (6'4!) and he played soccer for six years and he long boards and he's European. NEEDLESS to say, I'm infatuated. *sigh sigh sigh*

But

Our relationship is long distance. 

Last night, who we call "our boys" consisting of Will, Jacob, and Evan, came over for some fun Ryan Lochte television. He's dubbed the sexiest douche bag or something. And my boy, Tobi, asked me if I wanted to Skype and we hadn't Skyped in a few days and when we Skype we fall asleep together.

Well, anyways he was on his way to a lovely night of slumber :)

and I was sitting there talking to him.


And Will and Jacob starting exclaiming, screaming, proclaiming, and shouting about how I was creepy and how my relationship with Tobi was unhealthy because we talk until we fall asleep and leave our Skypes up to wake up in the morning to each other. <3 <3 <3

:'(
So I'm sorry that my relationship is creepy and unhealthy, boys.
I love you all too. Ha. Just kidding.

Evan made it clear we are just friends. 

But get this.
Will and Jacob said that they could never be friends with me. Because they are subliminally and subconsciously going to fall in love with me. 

It's okay though. I would fall in love with me too. 

:) <3 

Elizabeth Gunn

Oh What a Beautiful Morning

                As Friday was my last day as a Janitor and class is officially over, I excitedly stayed up till 4 in the morning last night and set my alarm clock for 12 pm with glee. I anticipated waking up to the sun’s rays streaming in from my window and Lizzy’s happy music as she packed and cleaned. Instead, I woke up to the sarcastic tones of the boy’s RA, declaring, “I’m going to break honor code and come in your room to inspect it.” Instantaneously, I pictured the my half of the floor, with all my clothes and various unmentionables strewn about. Looking quite like this, I’m ashamed to say: 

                Then I realized I was bra-less.

                Resignedly, I pulled my covers over my head, and prepared for the onslaught of awkward rapidly approaching. To my relief, I soon heard the RA say, choking back what I assume was laughter at the sight of my reaction, “Or…I will check the bathroom first.” 

                Jumping out of bed, I shut the door and then proceeded to gather my clothes in an even larger pile, effectively hiding all unmentionables, shouting every thirty seconds, “give me like a minute and then we’ll be good!” Once accomplishing the feat, I began to fix my current state of undress and heard the RA getting ready to enter. Utter fear of him coming in while I was still getting dressed caused me to shriek back, “Un momento!” 

                I heard Lizzy offer apologetically, “She’s just woke up.” Finishing quickly, I opened the door, winced at my reflection in the hall mirror, and walked into our kitchen, forcing a smile to greet the RA.

                Ironically, my alarm went off as soon as I began eating breakfast, surprising the RA who sat on our couch. 

               Oh how I wish I would’ve woken up earlier.

Moral(s) of The Story

-Laziness comes with a price. 

-A messy room essentially acts as a public display of everything.

-Hiding as a lump and faking unconsciousness, metaphorically and literally, is not an effective way of dealing with uncomfortable moments. 

-ANNALEE